


number one, how dare you?

by thegrayness



Series: Flufftober 2019 [3]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Slash, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: Flufftober Day 9: Paint. Alternate Universe - Office. (NOT an Office AU)





	number one, how dare you?

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the title is misleading, but this is not an AU wherein D+P work at Dunder Mufflin Paper. They just work in An Office... though the office setting barely exists. I'm sorry, but you can FULLY blame [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing) for the title because she said it and then I couldn't let it go.

“I think we should paint the bullpen,” David Rose announced, walking into his manager's office—well, he was the interim manager—without knocking. His manager kept typing for several more seconds before taking a deep breath and finally turning his attending to David.

“Good morning, David. What can I do for you today?” Patrick Brewer was a nice guy, a fine (interim) manager, and a whole entire snack if David was honest. David gestured to the open space behind him, beyond the walls of Patrick’s office. 

“I think we should paint the sales bullpen. Ecru hasn’t been a thing for at least twenty years, and I think it’d be a nice change. Robin and Gwen are both on board and I’m sure we can convince the rest of the sales team—_ besides_, they are all traveling so much anyway. I’m the one who has to sit here with these stifling walls of—of _ bland_.”

David could tell Patrick was trying to get his smile under control, his mouth was doing that turn-down thing it always did when Patrick was amused. _ Not _ that David was focused on Patrick’s mouth in any way whatsoever. That would be unprofessional and while, yes David could _ objectively _ see that Patrick was very, very attractive and confident and capable and perhaps sexy, in an unassuming kind of way, he wasn’t _ focused _ on his—

“David?” Patrick said, voice strained like he’d been trying to get David’s attention. David shook his head slightly and blinked leaning back in his seat. Had he leaned that far forward?

“What?” David cleared his throat. “So, we’re good?” He started to stand, feeling warm all of a sudden. 

“How exactly are you planning on paying for these renovations?” Patrick asked him, laughing a little. “I don’t exactly have the power to approve an expense report for _ painting the bullpen _ on the whim of our inside sales rep.”

David settled back in his seat. “Okay, number one, how dare you? I’m the _ senior _ inside sales rep, so don’t diminish my _extensive_ accomplishments at this company. Two, I know a contractor who owes me a favor who will paint it at cost.”

“No, of course,” Patrick began, with a grin. “I would never want to diminish your _ accomplishments _ as,” he cleared his throat, “senior inside sales rep.” Patrick tapped his pen on the desk, drumming out a cadence that must have been in his head, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hm. Imagine owing a favor to David Rose. How terrifying.”

David knew he was being teased but scoffed defensively anyway. “I’m not a _ monster_. Which you would know if you ever came out to the Cafe with me—us—after work.” David coughed. He has invited Patrick along easily a dozen times in the three months he’d been acting manager of David’s branch—temporarily transferred in from the Thornbridge branch where he’d been Assistant Manager. 

“Well,” Patrick leaned back in his seat, “today is your lucky day, David, because I’ve just found out when my tenure here is up. They’ve hired someone permanent. So now, you can ask me for drinks any time, and I can actually say yes.” David deflated a little. He sort of thought that Patrick would eventually be their permanent manager. Not that David was paying attention to him, but Patrick was actually a really _ good _ boss. 

David caught up to everything Patrick said. “Wait—so you wouldn’t come out with—with us because you’re the manager? It’s just drinks!” David waved his hands around in the general shape of a glass. 

Patrick smirked, eyes glinting playfully—or was that the offensive office lighting? He leaned his elbows on his desk, bringing him much closer than David was prepared for. “David. It wouldn’t be just drinks.”

All of a sudden David was breathless, and he cleared his throat again to try and cover the sound of his heart beating right out of his chest; surely Patrick could hear that? David’s voice decided to do an embarrassing thing where it got all gravelly and breathy as he said, “Oh, okay.” He felt a smile quirk up the corner of his mouth without permission.

Looking down as if now he was feeling _ bashful_, Patrick gave another short laugh. “Okay great. Should we talk about next month’s numbers, or…?” Patrick was still grinning, because he knew that was the easiest way to tease David right back to his desk. 

“Actually there’s still the matter of the paint,” David pressed his fingertips onto the glossy finish of Patrick’s desk, lifting his palms at the same time. “There’s the color options.”

“Mm, is that what I agreed to? Letting you paint the bullpen?”

“To be clear, _ I _ won’t be doing the painting part.”

Patrick nodded. “Right, and what part will you be doing exactly?”

David flattened his hands and dropped his shoulders. “_This _part! The part where we select the color!”

“Oh,” Patrick nodded again. “Where _ we _select the color.”

David ignored that remark and pulled a few paint chips out of his pocket. “I’ve taken the initiative to scout out a few colors I think will be acceptable in the space.” He dumped the stack of cards in front of Patrick, who looked seconds away from full-n hysterical laughter, which David did not appreciate it, not one bit. Despite the fact that he was smiling back at Patrick. The two things were unrelated, was the thing. 

Shuffling the colors in his hands, Patrick looked up at David. “I’m sure you have thoughts about which one is correct, so I’ll tell you what. Get me a quote under five hundred and I’ll approve the expenditure.”

The _ expenditure_. David was feeling warm. 

“Uh… okay, thank you, Patrick. And—um, in case you were wondering, I’m looking at Pelican Gray.” David waved his hand at the paint chips. 

Patrick sifted through the options and pulled one out to look closer. “B-13,” he said, thumbing the code on the corner of the card. 

“_Pelican Gray_,” David insisted, pulling the selected color out of Patrick’s hand. “What do you think?” He asked, and realized it _ mattered _ what Patrick thought. 

“I think it matches your personal color scheme nicely.”

David rolled his eyes and stacked up the cards. “Yes, well, you can’t back out now.” He stood to leave. “So if you don’t get the money, you’ll have to—” 

“Oh, I’m gonna get the money.”

*

Three weeks later, after work on Patrick’s last day as acting manager, David walked down the sidewalk towards the Cafe. Across the street he noticed construction workers just packing up from a day of work, clearing out some of the interior pieces from the newly-closed General Store. He stopped in front of the Cafe to smooth down his sweater—the one with the giant lightning bolt on the front—took a deep breath, and pulled open the door.


End file.
